The sounds of kids echoed off the walls filled with art projects and fingerprints. If these walls could speak, I wonder what they would say?

The 6th grade classes converged just outside of their classrooms. With anticipation in the air and two single file lines, they began their procession down the hallway lined with stacks of empty school desks.

Where did time go? When did these kids begin to look so grown up?

With cameras flashing and music playing, they entered the gymnasium for one final time. Today was their 6th grade graduation ceremony.

Wasn’t it just yesterday that it was their first day of school?

I remember the first day of second grade when I dropped my daughter off and then called my wife… only to cry my eyes out. I remember the soccer games and that one summer when she learned how to swim. I remember all those times I sat and wondered how much I had no clue of how to be a parent, or the times she would ask me for help on her math homework and I had no idea how to do it.

I remember standing with her while saying goodbye to my father shortly after he passed away as well as the time she was on my shoulders during the electric light parade at Disneyland.

Yet, look at her now all grown up… This is life, we all grow up sometime. But, why so fast?

As the teachers made their speeches, the doors to the gym swung quietly open as a fellow student, recently stricken with a brain tumor is wheeled in. It surprised nearly everybody… the tears that followed, were not a surprise.

It was a moment I will never forget as the young man joined his twin brother for this graduation ceremony.

Two weeks ago, he was a normal six grader excited for summer vacation and all that life had waiting for him.

Today, he will not be returning to the hospital for more treatment. The doctors have said they have done all they could do. With this, he will return home.

This is life, we all die sometime. But why now? Why so young? I pray it isn’t so. I pray a miracle is waiting in the wings for this young man.

This isn’t how it was supposed to be.

Yet, here I type.

I need to confess something. I confess that I don’t say, “I love you” enough. I confess that I don’t always seek to make my moments… make a difference. I confess that I have missed many opportunities to tell the ones I love… that I love them. I confess that I have missed many opportunities to show the ones I love… that I love them.

I realize now that while there is still a breath… there is still time.

How will I spend that time?